Monday, August 16, 2010

Excerpt: A Trust Revealed Aiza 4/Castilleja/para romance


Trust Revealed Cover

Trust Revealed

By: Diana Castilleja | Other books by Diana Castilleja
Published By: Tease Publishing LLC
ISBN # 9781607671169
Word Count: 97,495
Heat Index

Categories: Vampires/Werewolves Paranormal/Horror Shape-shifter

Available in: Adobe Acrobat

Morgan Aiza is tormented by a dream seductress, a woman who has haunted his dreams like a nightmare, but leaves him craving for a completion he's never known--and has never wanted. When Fate steps in and his dream woman literally runs right past him, Morgan is determined to prove he has no need of a wife, or a mate.

N'Rea Gordon has been alone since she was a teenager, moving and hiding, but from what she's never really admitted. When Morgan appears and offers more of himself than any other person in her lifetime in the name of compassionate aid, she is compelled to fight the attraction and help tooth and nail.

Trouble is hounding him, and evil is stalking her. From the gates of the Renaissance Faire where Morgan is granted an honorable knighthood, to the very doors of the family, they are stalked by an unknown danger. To survive and to acknowledge the deepest trust either have known, they are going to have to face the ultimate good versus evil struggle.




It was the dream, the merciless attack on his sleep Morgan couldn't avoid. Unconscious, he craved it, though he silently decried it and its meaning when awake in the light of day. The nameless goddess had plagued Morgan for over a month. A woman of uncommon beauty, with eyes the color of the darkest green, like the dew-kissed nettles of a mountain fir tree. Helpless in his sleep, he tossed restlessly as the image of the woman enthralled him, made his blood sing, creating sparks of flaring desire that never really faded.

Within the hidden secrets of his dream, the silken sweep of her lustrous hair seared his thighs. The long ebony tresses defied its own darkness, glinting a red and gold fire in the full moonlight slicing into his room, as though there were flames hidden within the heavy fall of midnight. A wild, untamable fire flowed through her, moved with her. Even in a dream, the surging heat lingered under his skin, everywhere she caressed and teased him. He tasted it in the air. When she moved, her hair swayed with a scalloped motion, a natural wave that called out to him to touch, to worship. He followed it hungrily, feasting on all of her like a starving man.

This woman had become an enticement, a temptress of unfulfilled desire as he slept. She beckoned to him, calling to him not by name but by a word—mine. The one word was all she ever said, a seductive whisper winding over his ear, a sultry sound that made him ache and reach for her.

His goddess would appear slowly, only her eyes, as if his vision were panning out, opening wider to enjoy her completely. Her features focused until he could see her entire face, smooth fair skin crowned with the full, rich midnight and fire of her hair. Delicate features, high cheekbones forming to a lush mouth, parted with the promises of passion. She glided over him with a graceful presence as he hungered for the next moments of the dream. After so long, he knew what to expect, and she didn't fail him.

Her body was long and lean, supple hot flesh, arching and writhing beneath his fingers. She brought the same burning hunger he carried when she invaded his dreams. Long red nails, sharp but purposely teasing, brought him to a fever pitch, stroking, holding, tempting. The sensations were electric, tightening his skin until it was almost painful to breathe. He never questioned her weight as she rose over him, taking him deep inside of her heat, like a velvet caress. It was a dream but it was so good. She would cry out and he would moan in pleasure as they met, the length of her hair singeing the heated skin of his thighs with her rocking movements. He quivered when she raked his stomach with her nails, her green depths blazing with possessive ecstasy, daring him, challenging him. Demanding he fulfill her every wish.

Morgan would exist in his dream, fall into the between world of real and make-believe willingly. Regrets would be for later, when he lacked sleep and the cold stab of deception mocked him. Right now, he imagined every word, every caress, every desire he knew he wanted. Desires she wanted from him, that together they wanted to share. Her cries filled his ears, her spine bowed tight, moonlight streaking over luscious breasts like a beautiful offering to the gods. Rocking over him, he would revel in the fire burning between them. Smooth skin would flow like heaven beneath his fingers, heat roaring up his arms to settle in his chest with every caress.

Until he couldn't take any more. Until he was thrusting his hips, dying to feel her rapture. Needing to bury himself inside her silken sheath, wrapped intimately by her. An ecstasy in itself.

Morgan awoke, snapping straight up in bed, the images crystal clear in his mind as his body finished what had started in the dream. He groaned thickly as a fierce orgasm ripped over him, his hips clenching in release unable to stop the result of her nightly visit. Clutching cool sheets in shaking fists, snarling his frustration with a loud echo into the dark room, his head reared back at the cruel misleading vision of passion.

Because he was alone.

The green-eyed vixen who had tortured him for over a month was not there, and never had been.

He tore the twisted, sweat-soaked sheets away from heated, naked skin, the keen disappointment like a scorching, stabbing knife. A heated blade he was familiar with and wished he weren't. Rising, he stalked to the open window of his bedroom glaring out into the unforgiving Oregon sky.

His heart pounded behind his ribs. If he breathed deep enough, Morgan could find the scent of her skin, of her heat surrounding him. On him. He gripped the window mercilessly, wanting to throw his head back and howl with rage.

None of this made sense to him. Morgan had never met the woman of his dream. There was no name for the goddess of seduction who came to him with an unerring nightly appearance. A woman who tortured him with an unbelievable body and a voice that spoke of promise and pleasure. With one word, she invited him. With only one word, she seduced him. Every night.

He breathed deeply of the late summer air flowing over him, the cooling breezes of the night's darkness soothing his stressed sex. Gradually, his reaction to the dream faded. His tensed muscles relaxed until he could stand at his full height without animalistic need clawing through him, without the desire to be sated spearing him with a viciousness never experienced in his lifetime. The breeze entering his home through the window danced over cooling skin, teasing shoulder length black hair, raising a ghost of the sparking touch he had yet to experience, yet knew too damn well regardless.

Morgan was the last of the four. Roman, Selene and Brooke were all either married or bonded. He was the lone wolf, remaining single by choice. His head sank forward a fraction, his gaze unfocusing as adrenaline continued to resonate through his blood with the hunger of his unsatisfied sexual dreams. He wasn't disappointed that of the women he'd shared an occasional interlude with, none had met his long term expectations or his deepest desires. What did bother him was this unknown vision who tempted him, drawing him into a world of seduction and sex, every night.

Since her initial invasion of his dreams, no other woman had raised even a whisper of attraction or appealed to him. Even the thought of slackening the lust with another woman was impossible. Any woman other than his dream induced siren left him cold and disinterested.

His seductress was mystery, desire, hunger, and maybe something more he couldn't put a finger on. Something that called to him almost as strongly as her voice and scent, a hidden element that he knew he recognized but couldn't place. And with just a dream, she could make him experience things he'd never felt wide awake and in bed with a flesh and blood woman.

Needing to escape the torment of his dream, Morgan stepped away from the wide window and called the heat of the change. Craved the rush of blood, the changed tempo of his heart pounding in his ears. He needed the change like a dying man needed forgiveness. The lupine form standing within his room a moment later was as well-known to him as his own human one. Anyone in his family would have recognized him.

He leaped through the window with a fluid movement, sprinting into the starry night. His long, harried gait carried him miles into the woods where he slid to a stop in the complete stillness, breathing heavily, trying to leave his misery behind, and knowing he failed. He let out a long, piercing song hearing the reverberation of his voice combined with the echo of nature. Gradually, peace calmed his erratic pulse, though he knew it was only temporary, until he slept again.

For nearly thirty-two years, he'd lived a contented life, living and sharing with his family and pack, having never really sought out his own mate. Never compelled to be proactive for the one woman who would be his.

Evidently, she was tired of waiting.

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Diana Castilleja

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